As I open the door to enter the rooftop of my house in London, it hits me that I'm lonely. Not lonely like "My wife's away tonight, my doggie died, I think I'll be ordering some pizza", more like "My best friend died four years ago, and I'm broken, but I can't tell anybody. My wife left me for my ex-friend, this lad called Richard Starkey. I've got so much to do but the only thing I seem to be doing is feeling bad for myself". That's the kind of emptiness I'm feeling.
I sit down next to the door, knowing that I'm the only person in this building. If I end up doing something to myself, no one will know before the papers begin to ask the big questions. "What happened to McCartney?" I don't want my fans to think I'm unstable. Because I know I am. I mean, anyone can see. I've let my beard grow for about four years; I haven't shaved since the day John died, and I'm not planning to, either. I'm a bit scared of the razor, to be honest.
I take a short zip of the coffee I brought with me, not directly liking the bitter taste of the liquid, but I didn't have any more tea left. What exactly happened in the late 50's?

I looked out of the window, the haze was thick, and it was pouring down with rain. Because Mimi was going away somewhere – I don't remember what she went away for – I was going to a sleepover with John, and I was really looking forward to it.
"Are you packed already, son?" I hadn't noticed that my father had come into the room because I was busy looking out of the window.

"Yeh … I think I'll be leaving in five minutes or so. Where's Mike?" I turned around, and my eyes met my father's.

"He's at a friend's as well, I don't think he'll be home before it gets dark outside. Were you waiting to say goodbye to your little brother, son?"

"Sort of," I admitted, and looked at my wristwatch. Five minutes past six. I'd better go. "Well, take care, father. I'll see ye' tomorrow."

I smiled a little at the memory. I still remember that night as it was yesterday – everything we did was new to me back then.

Even though Mimi's house wasn't far from my own house, I was soaking wet when I finally knocked at the door. My hair was a total mess, and I was regretting the fact that I did not bring my umbrella.
The door opened, and John stuck his head out. "Hello."
"Hello."
We stood there for a moment in an awkward silence, but when I started shivering, he opened the door a little wider and let me in.
We went up to his room where Mimi had prepared a little "bed" for me, and I sat my guitar in the corner, next to John's. "So …"

"Yeah …" John fell onto the bed, hands behind his neck. I sat down on the bed-like thing Mimi had created, but it was quite uncomfortable. We sat there for a while, talking, and suddenly John turned around on the bed, lying on his stomach with his head about five cm from mine.

"You know, Paul … I think I've got a very bad influence on ya'." I smiled weakly, and shook my head.

"No, you just gave me a social life."

"What about Ivan? Did you just say that he wasn't your friend?"

"No! That's not what I'm saying," I quickly responded, and looked right into his eyes. "But this is different from Ivan. He's just a lad from school …" John laughed quietly, and smiled. "I understand what you mean. I guess it's the same thing as me and Stu-," I remember that I didn't want him to fully the sentence, because I knew that I was loosing my courage. I leaned in and kissed his thin lips. What I didn't expect was the fact that he kissed me back. He stroked his hand through my hair, which was still wet from the little walk I had earlier that night.
He pulled back, and looked into my eyes. I had never kissed someone like that before. Of course I had kissed a few birds, but none of them like I had just kissed John. I had just kissed John. John. That's a boy's name. Did that mean I was queer?

The boy in front of me grinned a cheeky grin.

"You're queer."

"I'm not! You're the queer."

"No? You're the one who kissed me!"

"You're the one who kissed back!"

Silence. Then be both burst into laughter, and I yanked myself into the bed, lying there next to him. We didn't say anything for a moment, just lied there next to each other, starring at the sealing. The room got dark, and because John's room was in the 2nd floor, we could hear the raining on the outside from the bed.
John scooped a little closer, but I didn't mind. I just held him close, his head into my chest. Then he started unbuttoning my shirt. What was he doing?
Then I felt his lips on my neck, kissing their way to my cheekbone. I blushed, and closed my eyes. He kissed my lips once again, I still didn't move. Well, that's a lie, because I did move. I placed my hands on his hips, and opened my mouth a little to let his tounge in. He stroked his hands over my upper body, and a soft moan escaped my lips without me noticing. That's when he pulled back.

"Told ya'," he said, "I said you were the queer."

I sighed, and noticed that he had a growing erection himself.

"Whatever. I'll be queer if that's so bloody important to you," I said.

"Queer Paulie," he murmured, and covered my body with his once again.

"And you're saying I'm queer because I wanted to kiss you, but calling a lad "Paulie" does make you straight? You don't make much sense." I knew John nodded, even though I could not see it through of the darkness in the room.

"Maybe I don't."

"Maybe …" He stroked his hand through my hair, fully aware of the fact that it made me smile.

"Is little Paulie …" he placed his hand over my crotch, and I bit my lip to make sure not to moan again.

"Please fully the sentence?"

"I don't know, but maybe little Paulie wants his Johnny to make love to him?" I knew he meant it. John could be ironic sometimes, but when it came to sex and pleasure, he was damn serious.

"Yes, he does," I answered, my voice shaking.

"Is Paulie admitting that he's the queer?"

"Yes, Paulie is admitting that he is the queerest of us."

"Did he just call his Johnny queer, too?"

"Yes, I believe he did."

There was another silence in the bedroom, until I unbuttoned John's shirt and made him unbuckled his belt.

We shared another passionate kiss. His hands running through my hair. My hands resting on his shoulders. I just felt so safe, like nothing was ever going to harm me again, ever. He was my soldier; he was there to protect me.

I felt his hand caressing my body, stroking down my stomach and he touched my erection. I remember being hard as never before, I was just fifteen, and I wasn't really a big fan of touching myself. I mean, I was never alone at home, and the thought of Mike or my father running into me while I was … it was just terrifying. I looked up at John for a second; before he leaned down to kiss my neck again. Oh god, it all felt so perfect. This time, I didn't even bother to hold back any of the moans I knew would come.
I didn't know where John had learned all these things, but to be honest; I didn't really care, either.

"Oh, keep on doing that … Mhm …" John grinned.

"Do ye like that, Paulie? Do ye want yer Johnny to make ye come?"